


Wreckage

by glitterprison



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Pitch Perfect 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-06 17:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5426132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterprison/pseuds/glitterprison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from mitchellandbeale.tumblr.com: Don’t imagine Beca getting out of work early one day and coming home with flowers and something couple-y planned in her head and she walks in and is greeted with a half empty house and divorce papers on the table from Chloe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn’t that Beca didn’t love Chloe — because she totally did, more than anything in the entire world. It just so happened that she was a whole lot better at being married to her career rather than being married to her.

Working in the entertainment industry was a bitch sometimes. No, scratch that, she had 99 problems, and her bitch of a job was the majority of them. Being a music producer was one of the most important roles in the music business and was one that required Beca to wear many hats, sometimes all at once. She was the girl who was constantly required to find artists,  arrange contracts, come up with new, unique ideas for those artists, collaborate on every song recorded, the scheduler of each production, handler of finances and release dates, the person everyone came to when in need of advice, music or otherwise, and so, so much more. Unlike her wife’s job, which was a convenient 8am-4pm Monday throughFriday, Beca’s didn’t have set hours. It was unpredictable as to whether she’d be arriving home in time for dinner or not until breakfast the following morning. Therefore, finding a balance between work and home life was something Beca repetitively struggled with.

For the past few months, the brunette had been sounding a lot like a broken record, “I’m sorry, Chlo,” being the three words she was stuck on. She’d unintentionally stood Chloe up on date nights more times than she could count, ignored her in favor of getting work done on the rare nights when she actually did make it home at a decent hour, and her latest, in the long list of truly stellar wifely acts, was making a point to blatantly dodge the conversation of when they were going to have their own babies whenever Chloe brought it up.

These faults were things that Chloe could handle at first, as Beca had always been a busy bee. Plus, while the redhead did have a steady job in the world of teaching, Beca was the main provider for the two of them. She’d been the one to purchase their new house and cars after getting married and making her big break in LA. She had even paid off the rest of Chloe’s student loans. But… Chloe wasn’t in it for the monetary things — she was in it for love and always had been.

There wasn’t a price that could be put on the love Chloe had for Beca, but simply loving the other woman wasn’t enough when even a fraction of that love wasn’t being expressed or felt in return.

It was two weeks before their third wedding anniversary. Usually, Beca preferred to keep things simple when it came to celebrating, though because of her job, they had yet to celebrate on the actual day itself. In an effort to make up for that, Beca was aiming for a fourteen day-long celebration this year. Kind of like the 12 Days Of Giveaways Ellen Degeneres did around Christmas time every year, but anniversary style? Yeah, Beca was going with that, granted work didn’t try to pull a fast one on her and royally fuck up all that she had planned.

For the first night, she was keeping it simple. On her way home from work, at six o’clock at night for once, she grabbed take-out from one of Chloe’s favorite restaurants and stopped to pick up a bouquet of red roses, something incredibly uncharacteristic of Beca and almost a little bit painful for her. Like, could she be any more cliché? For Chloe, the answer was something she’d rather not think about, but after sitting in a hellish amount of traffic for over an hour, she’d decided it was easily a yes. When she finally made it home, she hauled everything inside and set her work bag down in the foyer to free a hand to turn on the light, thinking nothing of the complete darkness that embodied their home.

“Chlo?” she called out, stilling as she waited for an answer that never came.

She frowned with uncertainty, as it was unlike Chloe to be out on a school night. Plus, her car was in the driveway. Something wasn’t right, something she couldn’t quite place yet.

Beca continued further into the house, flipping on each light as she made her way into the kitchen to set their food down on the center island counter. Something was missing from the fridge, she noticed, hands finding her hips as she thought back to try and figure out what, squinting at it as if it would help her remember more clearly.

Was it the grocery list? No, she remembered watching Chloe dispose of that yesterday.

Were they receipts? Sometimes, Chloe kept them there when she needed to remind herself to return something.

 _No_. It had been a drawing from one of Chloe’s students. The one with flowers, a rainbow, and an obnoxious sun wearing sunglasses. Beca recalled shaking her head, with a roll of her eyes for good measure, at it for the umpteenth time on her way out of the kitchen this morning.

“Chloe,” Beca tried again, though this time it wasn’t a question. She rounded the corner and entered the living room, continuing, “Dude, are you, like, trying to be cute and play hide-and-seek, or something? Because I’ve told you before — you’re cute enough without trying to cram yourself into an abnormally small space and,” and Beca was rambling, because that’s what she did when she was nervous. Sighing, she rolled her shoulders and stopped next to the couch.

“I have food,” she weakly announced to the empty space, the rest of her sentence dying on her lips as she looked around the room.

The drawing from the fridge wasn’t the only item of Chloe’s that was missing. The throw that usually lived so neatly folded on the back of the couch was gone. Their bookshelf that was once filled with, in Beca’s opinion, terrible, pointless DVDs, most of which she’d been coerced into watching, was completely empty. The redhead’s silly slippers that never moved from the corner of the room unless they were on her feet were nowhere to be found. Finally, her gaze found the few framed pictures of them that lined the mantle above the fireplace, and she noted how they had been turned down.

Beca’s eyes fell to the bouquet of roses in her left hand before wandering as a pop of color caught her attention. On the coffee table beside her, there was an envelope, unsurprisingly, addressed to Beca, because who else would be finding it in their apartment, in Chloe’s perfect, totally teacher-like script and under it, a stack of papers. Maybe her wife had the idea to celebrate their anniversary a bit early too, at least that’s what Beca wanted to believe to keep the dread at bay. But, holding everything in place was a yellow cup. No, wait. Not just any yellow cup. The yellow cup, the one that had followed them throughout their years at Barden and that she’d futilely tried to replace when she thought she’d lost it in the move across the country. Inside of it were Chloe’s keys.

Dazed, eyes glued to the pile, the brunette unsteadily set the flowers to the side and reached for the sealed envelope, haphazardly tearing open the top.  _Beca_ , the letter started, the lines between her name and Chloe’s consisting of nothing but the lyrics from a song she knew all too well.

_I’ve got my ticket for the long way ‘round_  
_The one with the prettiest of views_  
_It’s got mountains, it’s got rivers_  
_It’s got sights to give you shivers_  
_But it sure would be prettier with you_

_-Chloe_

_With you._ That was their problem, Beca realized, much like she realized all problems: too late. Beca wasn’t present. Beca was the problem. Their problem. Or, well, Chloe’s problem, because considering that stack of papers two feet in front of her were signed divorce papers, there wasn’t going to be a ‘them’ anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from mitchellandbeale.tumblr.com: Don’t imagine Beca getting out of work early one day and coming home with flowers and something couple-y planned in her head and she walks in and is greeted with a half empty house and divorce papers on the table from Chloe.

Her mind was on an endless replay of the last interaction they'd had. It had been an odd time for Chloe to still be dressed in pajamas, but Beca hadn't questioned the fact. By seven o'clock on a Wednesday morning, Chloe was usually getting ready to head out the door, but instead had taken to sprawling out across the couch with her second cup of coffee in hand. The brunette had been rushing around just as she did every morning thanks to the habit of pressing the snooze button on her alarm a few too many times, lacking the time to finish her own cup of caffeine, ultimately leaving her half-full cup on the counter next to the sink. 

“It takes like, two seconds to put a cup in the dishwasher, Becs.” Chloe wasn’t sure why she tried anymore. More than half the time, it was like she was talking to a brick wall. That, or her words seemingly went in one of Beca’s ears and straight out the other. Her second graders were better listeners. 

“Ya, I’ll get to it before I leave. Promise,” Beca had said, and for once, it was a promise she’d kept. One out of the handful or so she made each week. 

When Chloe eventually got up to surrender her own mug, she stared down at Beca’s for quite some time. She noticed the way she’d placed it in crooked, leaning against another glass. It was a common occurrence with every item whenever Beca was the one to load the dishwasher, not that it was a chore she often preformed. After, Chloe would repeat the task and fix things, ordinarily ending up frustrated. However, that particular morning, that hadn’t been the case. The only emotion Chloe felt as she lifted Beca’s cup to straighten it, spotting the stain of the same shade of nude lipstick on the rim that the other woman wore everyday, was devastation. 

She hadn’t gotten to kiss the lips that wore that color before Beca left; her wife had been in too much of a hurry. And that, despite all of her anger, hurt, and despair, had been Chloe’s last chance.

Thinking back on it now, their brief encounter hadn’t been much of an interaction at all. It’d been a short exchange of words in passing, which was more common than not, and it wasn't how Chloe had wanted to end things at all.  


The truth was, there was no pleasant way to walk away from the woman she so dearly loved. There was no bearable way to go from moments with Beca to just memories. Every part of this hurt, and none of it was easy. While she didn’t hate Beca, my God, she _loved_ Beca, she resented the type of relationship theirs had become. Love could make up for a lot, Chloe had learned over the years, but… _Maybe,_ it wasn’t everything. 

Or maybe, that was just her brain trying to drown out her broken heart.  


_“Chloe._ ”

The redhead was pulled from her thoughts by the sharp voice. Shaking her head, as if to throw them away, Chloe sheepishly looked up from the spotless glass of the dining room table and focused her attention on the blonde across from her. “Sorry. I spaced. What were you saying?”

“We were going over what’s going to happen next,” Aubrey answered with a pointed look.

Aubrey Posen representing her in the divorce wasn’t the most ethical thing in the entire world - that much, Chloe knew. Then again, boundaries weren't something she often, or really ever, stayed within. She'd always been known to cross boundaries rather than draw lines and break rules rather than blindly follow them. The majority of the time things worked out, as it was all generally more calculated than she got credit for. Though, this time, she didn’t have any underlying tactics. There were no such things when it came to leaving her wife, mainly because she never imagined she would be. Chloe had been in it for the long haul, figuring they’d both have their careers and kids and grandchildren - everything. But, clearly, things weren’t meant to work out that way. “Bloe,” as Fat Amy called them, were never meant to have their ‘destined’ happily ever after, and Chloe simply figured she’d gotten lucky in the fact that her best friend had kicked ass at law school at Pepperdine while she’d been busy repeatedly failing Russian Literature at Barden. It was awful convenient that they’d both ended up California, credentialed and located in Los Angeles. Maybe that was another sign her and Beca weren’t meant to work. 

Or maybe, it was easier to think that rather than dwell upon all the reasons why things didn’t pan out as planned. Again. 

“Right,” Chloe sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, “Mediation - I remember now. So, Beca’s going to sign the papers, and then what? Th-Then.. It’s over? Just like that?” Her voice cracked at the end, raising an octave to reach that specific one that signaled Chloe was all worked up or tears were imminent or both.

Aubrey tilted her head downwards, eyes narrowing in concentration. “Well…” She paused, for once considering the words that were about to leave her mouth. This was a _friend_ she was dealing with, not just any old client. A friend who was about to burst with emotion, nonetheless. However, there really was no gentle way of putting it. “Yes,” Aubrey continued, “ _if_ she signs them, then that’s exactly what’s going to happen. What did you think—.”

“I don’t know, Aubrey!” Chloe retorted before the blonde could finish, leaning both of her elbows on the edge of the table in front of her, burying her face in her hands. In an attempt to calm herself, she drew in another deep breath. 

“It seems too simple, I guess,” the redhead finally admitted, words slightly muffled. She lifted her head to eye the stack of papers that lay between herself and Aubrey, who was doing her best to remain quiet and listen. Discussing feelings wasn’t her strongest suit, but she was trying. “I’m not, like, having second thoughts or anything, but… Marriage isn’t easy, you know? There’s so much that goes into it and so much that leads up to it. So much _more_ than just a stupid stack of paperwork.” 

The rational side of Chloe understood that it took a lot more than a few signatures to end a marriage. It took miniature disagreements that turned into full-blown arguments. It took unaccepted apologies and failed compromises. It took months and _years_ of trying until, one day, trying wasn't worth it anymore. It took realizing that this version of forever wasn’t the one that Chloe had said “I do” for. 

Right now, all she wanted was to reach out and shove the offending papers that would soon finalize everything, scatter them, the way that angry characters did in movies, but she refrained. Alternatively, she reached for her cell phone when it rang. 

All it took was a single, two-second glance at the screen to make her crack, and before Chloe knew what she was doing, she’d forcefully pushed her phone off the table instead.

“ _Damn_ it, Beca!” she shouted, and even Aubrey, who'd seen her emotional more times than she could count, straightened in her seat in a state of shock. Silently, the blonde stood and retrieved her friend’s phone, setting it back down in front of Chloe. 

“It might help if you changed that,” Aubrey gently suggested, referring to the stupidly adorable picture Chloe had set as Beca’s contact image. She hadn’t updated it in almost two years. Beca was making her best effort to give herself a double chin while Chloe was laughing and kissing her cheek. It was too good to replace, but having to look at it now...

Chloe deflated, her shoulders slumping. As fast as her frustration had boiled over, it seeped away just as quickly. She wordlessly nodded. Eventually, she’d get to it. 

“You’re going to have to talk to her again at some point, through all of this, you know…” Aubrey added, the uncharacteristic hint of calmness still present. It wasn’t a side of her friend Chloe was certain she’d see given the situation, but then again, people changed. 

Chloe nodded again, gaze dropping back to the glass, "I know." A single tear fell and smudged the surface. “But, not tonight.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the aca-awesome comments on chapter 1! I can't wait to hear what you all think of this next one! Don't forget, you can read more of my writing and/or request minific prompts at glitterprison.tumblr.com! Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 will be coming soon! If you liked this fic, you can read more at glitterprision.tumblr.com!


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